


For Whom the Bells Toll

by misura



Category: The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August - Claire North
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "He's nothing more than a tool," Harry said, his first full sentence tonight.Vincent felt strangely proud. "Exactly. You understand," he said. "It's not personal, Harry."
Relationships: Harry August/Vincent Rankis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	For Whom the Bells Toll

Vincent Rankis was not a bad man, but looking at Harry, pale and weak and hurting, he thought he might be convinced to become one.

"Harry." Things had been going so well. Almost ten years - and _this_ was how it ended?

Harry made a pained sound and Vincent forced himself to calm down, to focus on the here and now. He'd known this wouldn't be easy. He'd approached the problem logically, rationally, while also allowing for the fact that sooner or later, his emotions would start clouding his judgment.

Of course, with Harry involved, it had happened sooner.

Still, he'd made it past the point where he might have turned back, called it a day. Try again in a different life - well, he'd still be doing _that_. It just wouldn't be the same, quite. Not the same Harry.

 _He'd_ be the same, though. That would be his penance. He'd make Harry Forget and then in future lives, Vincent would find him again and make him happy, and hope that would be enough.

"You could have made this a lot easier on both of us, you know," he said.

Harry stared at him, silent. The expert Vincent had acquired had been instructed not to cause any damage that would impede speech, and Vincent had ensured the importance of following this order had been made clear. It hadn't taken much. The man _was_ an expert, after all, and far from the only one plying his trade in these parts.

Vincent had already come up with a dozen ways of killing him. For Harry. It seemed like the least he could do.

"With a bit of cooperation on your side, we could have had another ten, fifteen years." The expert had assured him there was no harm in offering comfort, in talking to Harry while he was resting, recovering, though he'd stressed the importance of Harry getting a good night's rest at this stage of the proceedings. "We had a good thing going here, didn't we? I really thought we did."

"Vincent," Harry said, pushing his face against Vincent's hand like an affectionate pet.

The comparison left Vincent feeling a bit queasy. They'd been _friends_. As far as Vincent was concerned, they still were. They would always be friends, no matter what.

He could only hope Harry felt the same way, though realistically, he supposed that might be asking a bit much. Still, with Harry clearly amenable to being touched, to having Vincent offer what scant comfort he could - who was Vincent to deny him? What right did he have to decide that Harry didn't really want this, that Harry was in no position to make informed decisions about his actions?

After all, Harry'd been in control of himself enough to refuse to disclose his point of origin. That meant something, didn't it? That meant Harry was still whole, that Vincent hadn't broken him yet.

"More," Harry whispered and Vincent frowned, wondering if the lack of volume was caused by anything more serious than the hour, the sense of secrecy.

Of course, Vincent had every right to be here. He was in charge, in control. He gave the orders. He had nothing to be ashamed of, to be embarrassed about.

"More," Harry repeated, one of his hands tugging at Vincent's clothing, as if he wanted Vincent to -

Vincent swallowed, his mouth dry all of a sudden. Harry had always been like this, of course. He surprised you, acted in ways you could never quite predict, even after years of study and observation and friendship.

"You're not well," he said. "I won't take advantage of you when you're like this." He thought he might be saying it more to himself than to Harry. Likely enough, Harry considered himself taken advantage of already. "Harry. I'm your friend. I hate seeing you like this."

Harry chuckled. The sound reassured Vincent. A man able to chuckle was a man able to speak.

"I do," Vincent insisted, determined to get this point across, even if he might accomplish nothing else. "The man who did this to you - he's a monster. They all are. But I'll make him pay. I know when and where he'll be born, where he goes to school. Everything. He can't escape me." He almost added Harry couldn't either, that it was hopeless, but that felt too close to cruelty.

"He's nothing more than a tool," Harry said, his first full sentence tonight. 

Vincent felt strangely proud. "Exactly. You understand," he said. "It's not personal, Harry."

"It's just business." Harry chuckled again.

That stung, a little. "It's not _business_ ," Vincent said. "That makes it sound like I'm doing this for money or something, and I'm not. Come on. Can I get you some water? More blankets?"

Harry sighed. "Vincent."

"I'm right here," Vincent said. "If you want me to, I'll stay by your side all night."

"What about work?" Harry asked. "You're not going to be able to think all that clearly if you don't sleep. You need rest, too, Vincent. You're only human."

"You're more important than my work," Vincent said. He felt a bit surprised to realize he meant it.

Of course, at this point, it was a little too late for that kind of realization. There was no going back now. The Vincent who had decided that he needed to do this had known that, had known that sooner or later, he'd feel this way - and realize that there was nothing he could do.

"I'm cold," Harry said.

"I'll get you another blanket." Vincent rose, but Harry's hand on his sleeve held him back even though Harry's hold was weak enough that he could have broken it easily enough.

"I'm cold, Vincent," Harry repeated. "Make me feel warm again. Prove that you meant it when you told me you were my friend."

Vincent tried a chuckle of his own. It sounded forced, even to himself. "I'm not sure 'friend' is the appropriate term for that." He felt tempted, so tempted. He'd be careful, naturally, and tender and gentle and kind and generous. He'd be so good to Harry - and then in the morning, he'd let them take Harry away again.

Harry struggled to get upright, his lips moving, and Vincent leaned in closer to hear, realizing too late that it had been a trap - albeit a rather harmless one, given that Harry only seemed intent on bringing their mouths closer together, close enough for a kiss.

It seemed rather poor manners to hold back after that.


End file.
